Esquire has long had a mantra: “man at his best.” And over the decades, as American culture has twisted its way through one radical shift after another, the magazine has enthusiastically embraced its mission of doling out advice on how to achieve that Platonic ideal of manhood—whatever it happened to be at the moment.
But delivering such sage instruction to our readers is arguably more challenging than ever. To begin with, consider what it means to be a man in contemporary American culture. Oh boy. If you’ve been looking for a can of worms to crack open, may I recommend that one?
In the past, Team Esquire selected at least a couple routes when it came to the dispensing of life guidance. Depending on the currents of the culture, you might have encountered the Bond (James Bond) approach or the Bly (as in Robert Bly, the poet who helped spur the men’s movement) approach. The Bond approach tended to involve the making of martinis, the wearing of tuxedos, the driving of sports cars, the beguiling of women with one’s savoir faire, etc. The Bly approach was marked by a profundity of the soul and leaned toward Serious Proclamations along the lines of “A man must make no new friends after the age of forty but should remain close with the few men who remind him that he is a man” and “A man must drink brown liquor in the cold months and clear liquor in the warm months because a man’s soul must remain attuned to the seasons.”
Or something. Far be it from us to be flippant about preceding decades, which in certain respects seemed more fun than the one we’re stuck in, but the whole idea of man at his best hits different in 2024. Men are just people trying to figure things out as they go along, and it feels misguided to get overly prescriptive. A guy should drink and wear and read and watch and drive whatever he’s comfortable with. He should work hard (but not too hard) and play hard (but not too hard) and all that.
But that brings
